Fine Print
by QuietLittleVoices
Summary: Dean wrote a journal when he was younger. He gives it to Cas after a hunt.


**A/N:** My very first spn fic so reviews are very welcome! Beta'd by the wonderful asterisks-who.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own spn.

* * *

It was after a hunt when it happened. Cas and Dean where winding down in a cheap motel room and Sam was off God knows where doing God knows what, though he was likely in a library reading.

The elder Winchester and the angel sat at the end of Dean's bed and watched the television, neither really paying attention to what was going on onscreen. They each held an uncharacteristically unopened beer bottle in their hands. Dean was trying his best to look relaxed and at ease, but it was obvious in the stiff lines of his back and shoulders that there was in fact something wrong.

Cas knew that he wasn't very good at reading human emotions, nor was he good with _dealing_ with those emotions. But he'd known the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if there was something they wanted to say, they would say it in their own time and trying to get it out of them before they were ready was counterproductive.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, both having yet to open their beer, Dean stood up very suddenly. Cas put down his bottle and let his eyes follow the hunter as he walked over to the coat hanger and took a leather notebook out of his jacket pocket before donning the garment. "Here," he muttered gruffly, shoving the journal into Cas' now-free hands.

"What is it?" the angel asked, turning the leather book over in his hands. The cover was old, worn, black leather, and there was a strap made out of the same material wound around it about four times to keep it shut.

"Read it and find out," Dean answered over his shoulder as he started to walk out of the motel room.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." And with that, the door slammed shut, leaving Cas alone with a small notebook.

He unravelled the leather strip, setting it to the side, and opened the book. Written inside the front cover with black pen in a child's 'neat' handwriting, it read 'Dean Winchester'. On the flip side of that, the handwriting was neater, obviously written by an older Dean.

_If you're reading this, then I trust you with my life, and probably Sammy's, too. _It read. _I hope you're worth this trust, I really do._

If Cas hadn't already been curious as to the contents of the journal, he was now. And so he turned to the first page. The handwriting was the same as that in the disclaimer, leading Cas to believe Dean had received the notebook as a small child, eagerly written his name in it, and then proceeded not to use it for years, probably even forgetting about it. The title of the first page read 'Pet Peeves'. It was just a bunch of scribbles all other the page in no real order. Cas could hardly read half of them because they were either too small or too close to other words. A few, though, he could read clearly.

_Nail biters_

_Back seat driving_

_Animals in the impala_

_Unmade beds_

_iPods_

They made Cas smile to see that serious, impassive Dean had been young once and had been bothered by simple things like that – and probably still was. With no more idea as to why he was being allowed to read this journal, he turned the page and read the title. 'Reasons Why I Am Fucked Up'.

It started with a carefully scrawled '1' in the top left margin. Next to that it simply read 'Sammy will always come first.' The line below that started with a '2' and was a bit longer.

_I have trust issues_, it read. _Dad was never, ever back when he said he'd be, and he lied to us for years about what he was doing. And then he made me lie to Sammy. So I guess trust issues are understandable. But I have them and you should know._

Cas already knew those first two points. They were obvious in everything Dean did; it would take a fool not to notice them. He glanced at the third point to see that it was much longer than the two before it. Both suspicious and curious as to what the point of giving him this journal had been, he continued to read.

_I'm really angry. Like, really angry. And I keep it all bottled inside and don't let it out in a healthy way. I know that I should probably just go kick a tree for an hour or go scream in the middle of the field but I don't have an hour and truly empty fields are harder to find than you'd think._

Something twinged in Cas at the thought of a young Dean with fewer scars and brighter eyes taking pen to paper and trying to write what he felt. More eloquent in writing than in speech.

_I'm only fifteen_, read the fourth point, _but I've seen and done things that most people never have to. Things that I'm not proud of. I know how to kill countless things countless ways and I shouldn't have to deal with that._

The last line hit the end of the page, and so Cas turned it to see... nothing. There was nothing more. Why would Dean give him an incomplete journal? He flipped another page and saw that writing started again, a blog paragraph with no title.

_I don't want to think about how old I'll be by the time I've found someone to give this too. Probably really old. Maybe I'll have wrinkles and grey hair and am done with all of this. I hope that's okay. It's probably how you met me, anyway. By the time you're reading this I'll probably by worse off than I am now. Be patient with me, though, okay? You probably already have been for me to give you this. But you'll probably need to be patient with me until we die. 'Cause you're probably stuck with me 'till then, anyway. Or, at least, I want you to be._

Cas flipped through the rest of the journal and saw nothing. Until the last page. Not the back cover, but the last page itself. The handwriting was slightly different there, though obviously by the same person. The page was titled 'To Cas'.

_I've carried this with me since I was a teenager; haven't written in it since then. Always meant to, never did. I got really caught up in hunting and keeping Sammy safe after that last bit there. I thought that I needed to come with a disclaimer so I wrote this._

_I wrote this to give to whoever I fell in love with for good. Obviously, I thought I'd be retired by then. Not that I thought I'd live that long. Anyway, what I'm saying is that I love you and that I'm really messed up, but I can try if you will. - Dean._

* * *

Dean had been meaning to give Cas that journal for a while. He was done hiding his feelings and decided to just throw them out there without taking precautions.

When he shut the door of the motel behind him, he immediately regretted his decision. Why had he just gone and done something so _stupid_? What him and Cas had was good without bringing love of all things into the mix. But he knew that he couldn't just turn around, take back the journal, and go 'nope sorry not today' because then Cas would get curious as to what was in it and bug him until he just gave in and told him.

So he got into the Impala and began to drive without a destination.

* * *

The only thing that Dean had left of their house in Lawrence, other than Sam, was that journal. His mother had given it to him the night she died. Right before they all got ready for bed, he wrote his name in the cover clumsily.

For years after that he would take the journal out, turn it over in his hands, and remember a time when things where better. But he didn't start writing it until he was a teenager. He hadn't written much before life caught up to him and he couldn't anymore; didn't have time. And so it went unfinished, save for a hastily scrawled 'afterword'.

Though he didn't write in it, he still carried it with him in the inside pocket of his jacket. He never wrote in it again, or at least not until a few weeks before when he finally came to terms with the fact that he was very much in love. He also figured that Cas deserved to know and to see his attempt at a disclaimer.

It wasn't very long before he heard a familiar fluttering sound and the equally familiar angel appeared in the backseat of the car.

"Jesus Christ, Cas, give me a little warning, okay? Almost made me run us off the road," Dean said, his heart pounding.

Ignoring his words, Cas held up the small journal. "I don't understand."

Dean let out a humourless laugh. "What is there to not understand?" They were driving down a dark stretch of dark road by then and Dean decided to pull over onto the hard shoulder so he wouldn't accidentally crash should the conversation become too difficult.

"Why did you give this to me?"

He got out of the car, walked around to the other side, and leaned up against the passenger side door with his arms crossed. Cas followed him out and stood next to him, still holding the journal. "I wrote out why, didn't I?" Dean stated finally, taking the book from the angel's hands and flipping to the end. "See? Right here."

"I know what it says, Dean," said Cas quietly, "but why me?"

The hunter couldn't help but laugh at his friend's obvious confusion. "Cas, buddy, I know you're new to this whole 'emotions' thing, but us humans can't _choose_ who we fall in love with. It just happens."

Cas nodded slowly. "I think I understand now."

The tension in the air got thick fast, and Dean felt like he was gasping for air. He was suddenly very, very nervous. "Do you now?" he managed to gasp.

"You love me."

Dean swallowed thickly but kept his head up. "Yeah, I do."

"That's good," Cas stated, "because I love you too."

Startled, Dean felt his eyes widen for a brief second until he schooled his expression. Cas had shifted ever-so-slightly towards him, and he stooped down just so to meet him. And then they were kissing, hands tangled in hair in a struggle to get closer. Dean realized with gasping breaths against wet lips that he was never going to be okay but that was fine because someone, an angel no less, loved him.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, this is my first spn fic, so I really would appreciate reviews.


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